Chapter 79

Chapter 79

Wen Buchi set down his brush and shot back, "Marquis Nan is so worried about how I talk, it reminds me of those street loafers who teach parrots to mimic speech."

He gave a slight smile and shook his head, "But at least they teach 'wishing you wealth and prosperity.' You, Marquis, can't even master such a low-class trick, only teaching flirtatious tones."

Then, he cast a sidelong glance at Nan Wuxie and continued, "If you truly have too much time on your hands, Marquis, you might as well go help the night watchmen beat their clappers by the moat. That would at least contribute to the capital's night patrol, far better than barking at the sun here."

Without waiting for a response, he picked up his brush again, "If you have no other business, Marquis, please take your leave. I still have official—"

"Official business isn't that big a deal," Nan Wuxie interrupted, leaning forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, Lord Wen, if you bore yourself to death, I'd be heartbroken."

He drew out his words with obvious teasing, "And this little thing won't take up much space. Just hang it by your window—you work on your documents, it sings its tune, they won't bother each other. Who knows, with time, you might even pick up some liveliness."

"Not needed." Wen Buchi remained cold, his gaze fixed on the files.

He knew well that Nan Wuxie was trying in his own roundabout way to get him to relax. The recent case of Ge Dahai had worn him out mentally, but this man's concern always came wrapped in such an infuriating package.

"Really don't want it?" Nan Wuxie sighed dramatically. "Then I'll have to take it back. Ah, poor little thing, I thought you'd found a handsome new master, but it turns out he doesn't like you at all..."

He stole a glance at Wen Buchi, then let out another long sigh.

"Ah..."

Wen Buchi's fingers tightened around the brush, but he didn't say a word.

Nan Wuxie observed his subtle reaction, the smile in his eyes deepening. He slowly got to his feet, making as if to pick up the birdcage: "Oh well, you can't force it. I'll just find someone who appreciates warmth to give it to..."

Just as his fingers were about to touch the cage handle, Wen Buchi's cool voice finally rang out.

"...Leave it."

Nan Wuxie paused, raising an eyebrow: "Hmm? What did Lord Wen say? The wind's loud, I didn't catch that."

Wen Buchi pressed his lips together, looked up to meet his gaze, his tone proud and icy: "I said, leave it."

Nan Wuxie, triumphant, smiled and said cheerfully, "Why didn't you say so earlier? Lord Wen is too polite."

He sat back down, watching with interest as Wen Buchi tried to hide his true feelings. "Don't worry, I'll have someone send over the birdseed and care instructions. I promise not to trouble you, Lord Wen."

The two fell into their usual rhythm, exchanging a few more barbs—mostly Nan Wuxie deliberately provoking and Wen Buchi responding coldly—until someone came in to report on business. Nan Wuxie then rose lazily, and before leaving, tapped the birdcage with his fingertip, saying to the little parrot inside, "Little one, stay put. Keep this cold-faced gentleman company for your old man."

With that, ignoring Wen Buchi's expression, he laughed heartily and strode away.

The office finally fell silent, broken only by the occasional faint rustling of the little parrot.

Wen Buchi stayed in his reviewing posture, unmoving for a long time. The sunlight gradually shifted westward, stretching the birdcage's shadow.

After another moment, he finally couldn't resist, lifting his eyes to the little blue-green ball of fluff.

The little parrot seemed to have gotten used to its new surroundings, no longer so frightened. It was tilting its little head, using its tender yellow beak to preen the fluff on its chest, looking utterly adorable.

Wen Buchi set down his brush and watched in silence for a good while. Confirming there was no one else around, he slowly stood and walked to the birdcage.

He stared at the little creature, and it stopped grooming, its black bead-like eyes gazing back at him.

After a moment's hesitation, Wen Buchi finally extended a finger, gently touching the bamboo-woven cage. Then, recalling how children in the market coaxed birds, he let out a low, somewhat stiff sound from his throat:

"Chirp... chirp chirp..."

The little parrot seemed drawn by the sound, hopping closer to the cage edge.

Encouraged, Wen Buchi tentatively reached out again, carefully slipping his finger through the cage gap to gently stroke the fluff on the parrot's back.

The parrot didn't flinch; instead, it rubbed against his finger.

A faint, barely perceptible smile finally crept onto Wen Buchi's lips, softening the cold frost on his brow. He stood quietly before the cage, his fingertip gently stroking the warm little life through the bars, over and over.

"Good."

Wen Buchi was utterly charmed.

"Call me 'Dad.'"

...

Truly, birds of a feather flock together. When it came to "tormenting birds," he and Nan Wuxie were evenly matched.

***

Inside the grand hall, gold bricks paved the floor, and dragon pillars stood tall. Morning light streamed through high windows, cutting out patches of brightness and shadow.

On the imperial throne, Li Sheng's face was as heavy as water, dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights. Even the jade beads of his crown couldn't hide the anger and impatience churning within.

The case of Ge Dahai was like a boulder thrown into a deep pond, its ripples spreading endlessly, stirring up a storm that shook the entire court. The Su family was mired in trouble, the beacon of the pure faction tarnished. What had once required only a nod from the Su family—the matter of the spring examination's chief examiner—had now become far more complicated and difficult.

Li Sheng favored the Su family, but at this critical juncture, forcing the issue would be like going against heaven and public sentiment. It might even invite accusations of "the imperial house disregarding lives and favoring aristocratic clans." What infuriated him more was that such a heinous crime had occurred in the capital, under the emperor's very nose, and still no truth had been uncovered. It was a slap in his face, a slap to the entire court.

To Li Sheng, the death of a mere provincial graduate was trivial. In the capital, how many "ants" disappeared without a trace each year? The real problem was the timing. Why did Ge Dahai have to die just as the Su family was poised to oversee the spring examinations? And in such a suspicious manner, stirring up an uncontrollable uproar?

That someone could use such a crude yet effective tactic to corner him, disrupt his plans, and force him into a passive position—that was the true source of the emperor's rage. This pent-up anger naturally fell on the officials responsible for the capital's security.

Li Sheng's gaze swept several times over Chao Yunping, standing among the military officials, and Wen Buchi and Situ Kong among the civil officials. That look was heavy, carrying the emperor's displeasure and demand for accountability. Though no words were spoken, the chill was unmistakable: If you hadn't been so ineffective in your duties, lax in defense, and inept in investigation, how could these petty villains have found a loophole, caused a death, and sparked this mountain of trouble?

Below the dragon throne, the hundred officials bowed their heads, each harboring their own schemes.

Some frowned deeply, genuinely worried for the nation's foundation and cherishing talent, or admiring the Su family's pure reputation. They feared that hasty changes based on rumors would chill the hearts of scholars across the land.

Others, skilled at reading the emperor's mind, had already sensed his preference for the Su family but his difficulty in acting. They racked their brains, pondering how to uphold the imperial will, quell the storm, and accomplish the task, earning themselves a great merit.

But many secretly rejoiced, especially those influential ministers who had been quietly maneuvering to pave the way for their own protégés or faction members in the examinations. Seeing the Su family trapped in the mire, they felt relieved, eager to solidify the status quo so the chief examiner position would follow old customs, making it easier for them to operate behind the scenes.

All these thoughts wove together in the hall, an undercurrent of silent turbulence.

"Your Majesty," an old official stepped forward after a brief silence, bowing to break the suffocating atmosphere, "the spring examinations are imminent. Scholars from across the land gather in the capital, eagerly awaiting. The choice of chief examiner concerns the nation's foundation and the scholars' morale. It is the foremost priority and cannot be delayed further. I implore Your Majesty to decide on the candidate early to reassure the people!"

This statement immediately drew support from several others.

"I second that! The urgent task is to stabilize the situation. If the chief examiner remains undecided, the people's hearts will be unsettled, inviting unforeseen changes!"

"Exactly! How can we delay the grand ceremony of selecting talent for the nation over a case still under investigation?"

Yet not everyone agreed.

"Your Majesty, I beg to differ!" A white-haired imperial censor stepped forward unsteadily, his voice resonant, "Precisely because it concerns the nation's foundation, we must be even more cautious! Lord Su's reputation for integrity is well-known; he is the irreplaceable candidate for chief examiner. If we hastily appoint another amid these complications, wouldn't it make the world think the court cannot distinguish right from wrong, that it believes rumors, chilling the hearts of scholars? I believe the priority is to thoroughly investigate Ge Dahai's case. If the Su family is wronged, clear their name and entrust them with the role. If... if the allegations prove true, then we can choose another worthy candidate. This would demonstrate the court's fairness!"

"Imperial Censor Wang, you are mistaken! Investigating the case and holding the examinations are separate matters. How can they be conflated? If the case takes three months to solve, should we delay the spring examinations by three months as well?"

"The investigation must proceed, but the chief examiner must also be decided early! These are two different matters!"

"Absurd! This case clearly points to the chief examiner selection. How can they be separated?"

"…………"

The court erupted into heated debate, neither side backing down—those advocating for a swift decision citing the greater good and stability, while those urging deliberation brandishing the banners of justice and integrity.

The voices grew louder, turning into something of a shouting match, making Li Sheng's face grow even darker. His desire was, naturally, to uncover the truth swiftly, to pull the Su family out of trouble, and then rightfully put them in the chief examiner's seat. If he were forced to decide on a candidate now, it could not be from the Su family.

So the pressure landed on the Three Judicial Offices, responsible for criminal investigation and scrutiny.

At the front stood Imperial Censor-in-Chief Yan Dongshan—young, sharp, and brilliant. He could clearly see who this storm was aimed at and what it was all about.

Amid the chaos of arguing officials, Li Sheng's gaze finally fell upon him, carrying both scrutiny and expectation.

Yan Dongshan adjusted his robes and, in the midst of the arguments, stepped forward steadily, his posture upright as a pine. He didn't rush to speak; instead, he bowed deeply toward the throne, his demeanor unhurried.

Instantly, all eyes fixed on him, and the hall quieted considerably.

"Your Majesty," Yan Dongshan said, his voice clear and steady, each word resolute, "The case of Ge Dahai, which occurred in the capital and implicates the reputation of a high-ranking court official, is also intimately tied to the selection of talents. It is no ordinary criminal matter. I, Imperial Censor-in-Chief Yan Dongshan, humbly ask that Your Majesty entrust this case to me for investigation. Let the Ministry of Justice, the Capital Prefecture, and the Grand Court of Revision collaborate. I shall spare no effort to uncover the truth, solve the case within a set timeframe, and report back to the court, to the scholars across the land, and to the deceased."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the most vehement debaters, and continued, "As for the matter of the chief examiner for the spring examinations, I believe both Censor Wang and the other esteemed officials have valid points. However, the examinations cannot be delayed, and the truth must not remain obscured. I pray Your Majesty grant me a period of fifteen days. If the case remains unresolved within that time, I shall submit a memorial of apology, and then the matter of the chief examiner can be discussed without delay. If the truth is revealed within fifteen days, all disputes will naturally settle themselves, and Your Majesty can make a decision with peace of mind."

His words temporarily postponed the debate over the chief examiner while providing a clear timeline, effectively silencing others.

On the dragon throne, Li Sheng's grim expression softened slightly. What he needed was someone capable of bearing the pressure and solving the problem.

Amid the gazes of surprise, approval, or suspicion, Ji Ye and Tan Huaiyuan exchanged a brief glance before returning to their impassive stance, eyes fixed downward, having said nothing throughout.

Li Sheng pondered for a moment before finally speaking, "Approved. Minister Yan, I grant you fifteen days. I want this case resolved clearly and unequivocally."

"Your servant accepts the decree!" Yan Dongshan bowed in response, his voice firm.